These Sleepless Nights
by the.eye.does.not.SEE
Summary: John and Marcos have a conversation after Lorna comes home from prison.


_**A/N** : Couldn't resist going down the sad route, too. Enjoy!_

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When John got up to the roof to take his watch, there was already someone there. He frowned and checked his phone, thinking perhaps he was early, but he had the time right. It was four AM and it was his shift. He let the door to the roof swing shut behind him, not loud enough to wake the others downstairs, but loud enough so that whoever was sitting on the edge of the roof could hear.

The figure didn't turn. From this far away, and this late into the night, he couldn't quite tell who it was. They'd taken in a lot of newbies these last few months, so it could be one of them. Though he couldn't imagine they'd be put on guard duty in the most dangerous part of the night.

"Hey," he called out as he made his way across the roof. "It's not your watch. Go back to sleep; I've got this one."

"I know you do, John."

John stopped at the sound of the voice, frowning. It didn't make any sense. What was he doing out here?

"Marcos?" he called warily.

The man sitting on the edge of the roof didn't turn around, but John knew now that it was him. He didn't know how he'd missed it before, even in the dark. He knew Marcos better than he knew anyone else in the world.

"Hope you don't mind the company," Marcos said as John walked up behind him. "I just needed some air."

John nodded, and took a seat beside him. For a minute, they stared out at the night in silence, watching, waiting. They were far enough from civilization here that the city sounds and the city lights didn't reach them. It was dark and quiet; the only sounds that could be heard were the footsteps of ground guard, pacing the perimeter below, their three generators running in the back, and the soft noises the forest animals made in the night.

John sat beside Marcos but didn't dare look at him. He knew now why he hadn't spotted Marcos right off the bat earlier. With Lorna finally home, this was their first night together in nearly half a year. The last thing John expected to see was Marcos up here on the roof, all alone.

But here he was.

After a quarter of an hour, John finally had to ask.

"You gonna tell me what you're really doing up here?"

"Are you gonna make me?"

"No," John answered. "But I will keep asking. You know I will. You don't have to talk to me now, but you're gonna have to talk to me sometime."

Marcos sniffed, and nodded. "Yeah, I know," he muttered. He bent his head down, and for a moment John did the same. They each stared past their legs, and down five floors to the ground. Not for the first time, John wondered if Marcos was thinking about jumping.

"Lorna said…" Marcos cleared his throat, and ducked his head further down. "She said she wants to sleep alone tonight."

"Oh." John closed his eyes, suddenly wishing he hadn't spoken to Marcos at all. Why hadn't he just let him sit here alone in peace? "Fuck," he muttered. "I'm sorry, man."

"It's okay," Marcos whispered. "It's her right to want that. I mean, she's been through hell…"

He trailed off. For a minute, neither of them said anything, because there was nothing to say. In truth, they didn't know what she'd been through. Lorna had been home for a full twenty-four hours now, and yet she had said not one word about her time in prison. In fact, she had barely said anything at all.

"She looks bad, doesn't she?"

John looked up when he heard Marcos' voice catch.

"I mean, _really_ bad," Marcos continued, and John noticed his hands were shaking. "Sick bad. She looks unhealthy."

"Caitlin checked her out," John reminded him. "She said there were no lasting injuries—"

"What the hell does she know?" Marcos snapped furiously. "She's not a doctor! She's not a psychologist! She has _zero_ training in mutant medicine, let alone trauma—"

"She's what we've got," John cut in. "And we're lucky to have her."

Marcos shook his head, fuming, but he didn't argue that point. He turned back to stare out into the night.

"I can't stop thinking about it," he whispered. "What she must've went through. I can't stop imagining…"

"I know," John murmured. "But she'll be okay. She's a survivor, like all of us."

Marcos shook his head. "There are some things people can't survive."

"It was prison, Marcos. I know it was bad, but she's out now. She's home. She's got Caitlin to look after her, and she's got you, and she's got all of us. She'll get better, I know she will. I mean, look at Clarice—"

"Lorna was in there longer than Clarice."

"I know, but—"

"Lorna was _pregnant_ ," Marcos hissed. "Don't you dare try and compare their situations as if the two of them have suffered the same. Clarice didn't lose a child while she was locked up!"

John closed his eyes and relented. He knew better than to push the topic, and besides, Marcos was right. Lorna's situation was entirely different. Clarice had been just another captive, but to the feds, Lorna had been a symbol. She was the first member of the Underground they'd caught alive in some time.

John, too, didn't like thinking about what must have happened to her inside.

"Do you think they took the baby from her?"

John turned, staring wide-eyed at Marcos. " _Took_ it from her? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Think about it, John. They take in mutants, lock them up, register them, render their powers ineffective… What's to stop them from taking the next generation? Even if they didn't know I was the father, they sure as hell knew her child would have the gene. Why not take it out before it grew to maturity, and became a bigger problem? Why not—God, what the hell, why not just sterilize her too while they were at it?"

John shoved himself to his feet, shaking his head. "Okay, now you're being paranoid, Marcos."

"I'm not being paranoid," he snarled, getting to his feet and following after him. "Look at history! It's not like it hasn't happened before in this country, John. America loves purging itself of its undesirables—hell, at this point, it's basically the national pastime. It's been going on for centuries!"

John turned to glare at him. "Yeah, I haven't forgotten, thanks."

"You know it's not impossible," Marcos continued. "You know how history repeats itself. You know what the masses do when they fear they're being persecuted, how they lash out."

John sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. "Look," he began quietly. "I respect that you've been through a lot of shit these last few months, Marcos. I honestly can't imagine what it's been like for you, let alone for Lorna. But you're not thinking straight here. You're not sleeping, either. When's the last time you had a full night's sleep?"

"I don't need sleep," Marcos yelled, "I need to find out what happened to her!"

"Then give her _time_!" John yelled back. "It's been barely a day, and she was held captive for _months_! She isn't going to pour her heart out to you five minutes after she's gotten home! She needs space—"

"You think I don't fucking know that?" Marcos cut in. "Remember why I'm out here, John! She doesn't want to be near me. She can't even be in the same _bed_ as me."

"Marcos…"

"I have not slept apart from her in five years. _Five_ years." His voice cracked. "And—and now she can't look at me, she can't speak to me—"

"It's been a day, Marcos," John reminded him quietly.

"But what if time doesn't change anything?" he whispered desperately. "What if—What if she never wants anything to do with me again?"

John put a hand on his shoulder. "Come on. That's not gonna happen. She loves you."

"You don't know that. You don't know what they did to her in there, how they messed with her mind—"

"She isn't weak," John interrupted. "She fought off whatever they did to her, survived whatever they put her through, and she's here now. She's with us. I know she's not looking good, I know she's not acting like herself, and I know the baby's gone, but… Give her a chance, okay? Give her some time at home, some food, some stability… She'll come through. She'll be herself again, I know she will."

Marcos glanced up, and for the first time in a very long time, John saw a flicker of hope in his face. "Do you really believe that?" he asked. "Do you actually think she'll be okay?"

"I do," John told him. "As for you two…" He smiled a little. "Come on. This is Lorna we're talking about. No way she'd let a bunch of feds change how she feels about you."

For a split-second, Marcos' mouth twitched into a smile too. Then he closed his eyes, and his whole body seemed to slump, as if trying to sink through the building and down into the earth.

"I just want to talk to her," he whispered. "That's all I want right now. She lost our baby and… and I want to be able to grieve with her. If we can't do anything else together, I at least want us to be able to do that."

"I know you do," John murmured.

"We never even got to celebrate," Marcos added, wandering back to the where they'd been sitting earlier. John followed. "I mean, I found out from Strucker after she was arrested, and… and I don't even know how _she_ found out." He looked over at John when they hit the edge of the roof. "Do you think she knew, beforehand? Before she got taken?"

John shrugged. Until Lorna started talking, there was no way to tell.

With a sigh, Marcos sat down again, letting his feet dangle over the edge. John sat beside him. He made a quick check of the grounds, making sure the rest of the perimeter guards were in position, before he allowed himself to relax and scan the night.

"We've talked about kids before, you know. Once or twice."

John looked over in surprise. This was news to him. "You did?"

Marcos smiled a little. "It was kind of a conversation we had to have," he pointed out with what was almost a laugh. "I mean, you know how long we've been together—"

"Yeah, and I know how often you have sex too," John complained.

"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times: get earplugs if the noise bothers you."

John grinned, and Marcos did too. For a moment, it felt like old times: sharing the watch together, talking shit, one eye on the horizon for danger and the other for hope.

"So what did you decide?" John asked finally. "When you had those talks about kids, did you come to some sort of agreement?"

Marcos shrugged, turning out to face the forest. "The agreement was, she would have the final say. No matter what. But…" He lifted a hand, rubbing the back of his neck. "But the last time we spoke, I did tell her that I… I told her that, you know, I'd actually like it if she become pregnant. I'd like if she kept it. I thought… Well, I thought we'd make a good family, her and I."

He shrugged sheepishly, looking away as his cautious words trailed off into silence, and John couldn't help but think this must have been exactly how Marcos had spoken to Lorna: nervous for wanting so much, and yet unable to keep quiet about it. It made John smile, for just a second, before he remembered how far away they were now from that easier time.

John turned his head forward again to watch the sky for anything incoming. After a few minutes, he sensed Marcos do the same. For the next few hours, they sat side by side, talking little, keeping guard over the land that was, for now, theirs. As the hours slipped by, they watched the night sky lighten and lighten and lighten until eventually it was day.

John checked his phone as the sun peeked out from behind the tops of the trees. In three minutes, his shift would be over, and then he'd be able to sleep. He hoped Marcos would find some rest, too.

From three floors below, John heard the telltale sound of the first daytime shift ascending the main staircase. They'd be up on the roof in just a minute, and he knew after that the rest of the crew would start waking up. He won't have much time alone to talk to Marcos.

Fifty seconds… Forty…

John got to his feet, and Marcos, knowing the signal, got to his as well. He started to move towards the door until John called him back.

"Hey, I just want you to know—for whatever it's worth—I always thought you and Lorna would make a good family, too." He held Marcos' eye. "And I still think you will."

Marcos nodded, whispering out a rough, "Thanks," just before the door opened behind him and the first daytime shift stepped out onto the roof.

They were exuberant after a full night's sleep, and, apparently, excited at who they saw on the roof.

"There he is!" one of them called out.

"Marcos," the other waved him forward. "Hurry up, disappearing act. You're wanted downstairs."

Marcos frowned. "Wanted by who?"

One of them laughed; the other smiled.

"Who do you think? Lorna's been asking after you."

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 _ **A/N** : I actually made the ending somewhat happy for a change! ;) Hope you all like it. Please leave a review if you have any thoughts!_


End file.
